


The Becoming of Master Potato

by JulianGreystoke



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Comedy, Danger, Death, Gaming, Human, I don't even play WoW, Interaction, Silly, VideoGame, Werewolf, Worst Fanfic Ever, beginning, druid, player - Freeform, written for compeition
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-23
Updated: 2018-03-23
Packaged: 2019-04-07 03:20:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14071797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JulianGreystoke/pseuds/JulianGreystoke
Summary: Master Potato comes into being with nothing but the clothes on his back and the bossy voice in his head that seems to control his actions and delights in making him jump everywhere. Can one character make sense of a world where he isn't in control and reconcile the Player that dictates his every move?This silly little story was written for a competition that had a WoW theme. I don't play WoW, but I picked a random LP and went with it.





	The Becoming of Master Potato

The Becoming of Master Potato

He came into being fully grown and aware of himself all at once. He simply wasn't, and then he was. Standing in a cobbled street with an understanding that he was man, that he could speak and walk and grasp things with his hands. Coupled with this came the knowledge of language and mobility came the notion that his name was 'Master Potato', and that, perhaps, it wasn't completely natural to spring into being without so much as a “poof”.

 

Beside Master Potato a few people milled near an overloaded vegetable cart, though none so much as glanced in his direction as Potato came to be like the flame of a struck match.

The newly formed man cleared his throat. He prodded curiously at his face, discovering a wide, flattish nose, full lips, bushy eyebrows, and muttonchops. He raised those bushy eyebrows and “hmphed” experimentally. He looked down to investigate his unimpressive attire of homespun and leather, the other people still ignoring him.

“Alright, Master Potato, let's get moving.” A female voice coming from... where? Potato looked up and down the street, expecting to see a woman striding towards him wagging her finger like a disappointed mother. All he saw were the nearby peasantry who continued to stare blankly at a selection of ripe pumpkins.

“I said let's go!” the voice demanded.

Potato looked to the sky. No mysterious flying task-mistresses above him either. None of the other folks in the street seemed to hear or take note of the voice any more than they did to Potato himself. Having just come into being Potato decided he didn't have any idea of what was expected or unexpected in this life. Perhaps everyone had a bossy woman in their heads demanding they get a move on. Tilting his head back, Potato asked of the world in general “Where is it I'm supposed to be going, pray tell?”

“You have to help defend the kingdom of Gilneas from the Wargen.” Said the voice.

“Wait... I what?” Potato stepped back, chin still raised as he spoke to the overcast sky. At the invisible woman's words images of horrifying wolf-creatures flooded his mind, with slathering jaws and claws as long as his hand. He blinked furiously to dislodge the hateful images. “I... I can't help but feel like someone else might be better suited to such a task.” Someone who hasn't been born right this very minute.

“Nope. You're my character, and we're saving the town. Let's go.”

Before Potato could protest again, or even look around at the gloomy village to see if he could spot one of the aforementioned Wargen, something yanked in the pit of his stomach like someone was trying to jerk his spine out via his belly button. With a yelp of surprise Potato found himself walking. The tugging led him and he found it was far less painful if he kept his feet moving. He looked again at the villagers, still standing uselessly by in the same spot beside the vegetable cart. Perhaps he really was the only person who could save this village. Clearly everyone else was under some sort of spell.

Moments later Potato found himself jumping down the street. As his body bounced up and down at the behest of the pulling in his gut he managed to choke out, “Why. Am. I. Jumping?”

He stopped.

“Oh, sorry. It's just something I do.”

“You do? You're in control of this?” Potato asked the mystery voice, planting his hands on his hips. He had just worked up his sternest glare to aim at the sky when the tug was back and he was walking again. “Can I ask where we're going?” Potato managed to ask before a particularly firm yank in his gut made him clamp his mouth shut in pain.

“Quests.”

“What... what are quests?”

“You'll find out. Don't worry. We'll be doing a lot of them.”

“A-alright.”

“Glad we're in the same page.” The voice said before hauling Potato around a corner. The streets here were wide and decidedly empty. They looked as if they'd been constructed to be filled with crowds. Perhaps armies marched through on a daily basis. There were very few people about, and those he did see wore the same blank disinterest on their faces as the ones by the vegetable cart. There was even a dead-eyed dog, tongue endlessly lolling, to complete the bizarre tableau.

“May I ask something else?” Potato questioned, in a hushed voice. If this strange voice (probably a god, he reasoned) was able to move him against his will, perhaps he should try being more reverent.

“Sure.”

“Why am I the only one doing anything?”

“Because you're a PC. A player character. Those dudes over there; NPCs. Non player characters. They're not supposed to move or do anything. You're the hero, so you get to do things.” The voice explained. It sounded bored. Potato imaged a goddess resting her chin on the heel of her hand, eyes flecked with disinterest as she piloted him around the square.

“I-I'm the hero?”

“Yes, and you have important hero-ing to do, so pay attention.”

Potato focused on the street in time to notice that the unseen hand of his new god was steering him towards a crowd of 'NPCs' that were standing in tidy rows of identical men. Soldiers, his mind supplied, though he had no idea how he knew that. Before them another man perched atop a dapple grey horse, addressing the eerily silent crowd.

Potato finally came to a stop beside the mounted man. He'd been hoping, as this fellow seemed to be important enough to have a face of his very own instead of the copies the soldiers all wore, that he might be another PC. Sadly, his eyes were just as hollow and sightless. A wooden toy in a shop window.

“I want the parameter secured and the gates manned by two guards at all times! No one gets in, no one gets out,” the man on the horse declared. Not a single soldier moved to obey his orders.

“Is... is this something I'm supposed to do?” Potato asked, cutting a glance skyward. At least the mystery voice had stopped forcing him to walk for the moment.

“It is and it isn't.” the voice answered coolly.

“Right-o then.” Potato folded his arms, briefly startled by how muscular they were. Was he meant to punch his way to victory? He didn't seem to have armor or a sword like the useless soldiers wore.

As the tugging in his belly began to tingle to life again, guiding him nearer to the mounted man, two more people popped into being beside him. Potato let out a very unheroic yelp and managed to flinch away. Neither of these new persons looked like the identical, blank-faced automatons that populated the village. These people wore differing clothes and glanced around themselves expectantly, though neither payed any attention to Potato.

“Would you please focus? We have a quest to do.” The god-voice said.

“Wait, who are they?” Potato asked, gesturing to the newcomers who had popped into being very much as Potato had imagined me must have.

“Other PCs.”

“So there are more?” His shoulders sagged with relief. “I thought it was only me who would do the quests and save the world.” He took a few steps towards the pair, extending a hand. “Hello my fine fellows! Shall we begin saving the world together?” It seemed infinitely more sensible to assemble a group of friends to do the hero-ing rather than going alone.

Neither of the other PCs took any noticed of Potato. One tilted her head back, obviously addressing her own version of a controlling voice.

“You don't interact with each other,” Potato's god explained wearily. “Not unless I make you.”

“Erm... so we don't save the world together then?”

“We do if I talk to them.”

“Oh.” This arrangement seemed needlessly complicated, but Potato didn't have time to dwell as the iron hook around his spine was back in place, yanking him away from the new PCs. He spared them one longing glance before he nearly smashed nose first into the dapple grey horse. The animal didn't so much as twitch an ear in his direction.

“Quest time.” Potato's god declared.

Without warning the mounted man wheeled his horse to face Potato, looking down with a wild desperation in his previously blank eyes. “What are you doing here citizen?”

“I-” Began Potato. He was immediately cut off.

“Haven't you heard? The city's under complete lockdown! Go see Lieutenant Walden. He'll give you further directions for evacuation!” With those words the man's face went blank again and he swung his equally disinterested mount back to face the rows of soldiers.

Potato raised a tentative hand. “Lockdown? Sir, I don't think I'm supposed to evacuate because the lady in my head says I'm the hero and-”

“Shut up, Potato,” said the goddess. “These people don't care. NPCs only seem like they care when you pick up or finish a quest. Come on. He gave us the hook. Now we find this Walden guy.”

“Why? Aren't we supposed to to evacuate?” Potato pointed out as he let himself be guided along. He was getting a little better at following where his gut led. Perhaps one day it might feel natural. If he was indeed doomed to spend the rest of his life tethered to a this peculiar goddess. “Are you the voice in all the PC's heads or do they each have different gods?” He asked as she steered him down a wide street past rows of identical houses whose doors and windows looked to be painted on.

“What? No. I'm the player. You're my character. I have some other characters too, I'm just trying out this expansion. I can only control one of you at a time, so you're it for now.”

This raised more questions that it answered, but Potato kept his mouth shut and marched. His 'player' led him down another street towards a massive, steel gate that was closed and chained. Inky crows flew up when they spotted him, cawing their displeasure. They were by far the most lively thing Potato had seen thus far. His eyes were drawn next to a figure laying face down on the damp paving stones.

“Oh! Gods!” Potato gasped, picking up his pace to kneel beside the fallen man. The man's fine clothes were in tatters, shredded and stained with darkening crimson. There was a puddle of blood surrounding him, seeping from several nasty wounds. Potato looked up to see other guardsman laying nearby, their armor rent back from their mangled torsos like coils of wood from a whittled sculpture. Nervously Potato turned the man he knelt beside, looking into his pale, unmoving face. He fumbled for a moment, seeking a pulse, and found nothing.

“Ok, good, we've got it. Back we go.” said the voice.

“What?!” Potato was yanked to his feet, causing him to drop the man back onto his face in his own blood puddle. As he struggled to protest further Potato found himself being dragged back towards the main part of town. “But- hey! That man's dead! Shouldn't we... I don't know... do something?”

“We are. That was Walden. We're going back to report his death.”

“What about those other men? What if they're alive and-”

“They're not.”

Potato wasn't sure this was how one was supposed to handle seeing their very first dead body. Then again, none of this day was going how he might have expected.

The sounds of conflict rang out from ahead, metal on metal, shouting and... was that howling? Potato wished his feet would stop moving. That the voice, the 'player', would give him a chance to talk and maybe better understand before he met what was sure to be his demise on the very same day he was created.

Rounding a building Potato took in the scene. Huge wolf creatures with gaping jaws and clawed hands the size of Potato's head, darted around, leaping on anyone they could reach, PC and NPC alike. The other PCs were fighting back, one wielding a knife, the other a sword. Potato looked at his fists again and swallowed, his breath growing shallow. Was he meant to join the fray?

His player didn't seem to notice the attacking wolf monsters, instead steering Potato back to where the man on the horse was fending off one of the beasts. The PC with a knife jumped into the melee and soon ended it with a few deft stabs before bouncing off in an unheroic fashion.

Potato wanted to ask if he would naturally be good at fighting like the man with the knife had been, but the horseman turned and began addressing him immediately. “It's you again. Looks like you're not one to hide in the face of danger.”

“I wasn't given a choice,” Potato griped, knowing the man wouldn't acknowledge his words.

“Very well then,” the horseman went on. “Wargen! My father warned me that Archmage Arugal's creations had run amok, but where are they coming from? I suppose it doesn't matter. Help us make quick work of them. We'll show them what we Gilneans are made of!”

Potato let the man keep droning on, his eyes drawn to the fighting instead. A seemingly endless supply of wolf-creatures, of 'Wargen' poured down alleyways and across streets. For the moment they ignored Potato, but how long would that last?

“Alright. We have our new quest!” The voice announced. The horseman had stopped speaking and was ignoring them again.

“Right,” sighed Potato. “Are we supposed to go poke another dead person?”

“We're evacuating the town.”

“How?” Potato looked skeptically at the houses with their doors that obviously didn't open.

“Look, it's better if you don't ask to many questions and-- look out!”

Potato whirled in time to see one of the wargen creatures lurching towards him, maw open, teeth and fangs painted with villager blood. Potato staggered back, raising his hands before him, fingers not even balled into fists. He braced to feel the claws raking his forearms, but instead his palms grew strangely warm and white light erupted from them to blast the monster squarely in the chest. “The hell?” Potato managed, hands still raised. Another burst of light and the wargen toppled to the ground with a pathetic whimper and death gurgle.

“Magic,” sighed the player, and Potato could almost hear her rolling her eyes. “I made you a druid. You can call on the power of the sunlight or some shit.”

Potato decided not to ask how that worked in a place so heavily and perpetually overcast. Instead he turned and aimed his open palms towards another of the monsters, this one stalking towards a dead-eyed NPC woman who shrieked automatically when she remembered to. More light, more magic and the creature fell dead at the woman's feet.

“Alright,” Potato admitted, flexing his fingers as little sparks darted between them like fireflies. “I admit. his is rather enjoyable.”

“See? And the more we practice, the better you'll get and the more spells you'll learn,” said the voice, more cheerfully than before.

A swell of warmth pooled in Potato's chest and it took him a minute to realize it was... pride? Happiness? For the first time in his (admittedly short) existence, something felt right. He couldn't access his magic without the sky lady and she couldn't cast it without him! They were meant to be a team!

Potato allowed himself to be piloted through town. With their goals united at last it hardly hurt at all when his goddess pulled him in one direction or another. His magic burned and seared its way through the wolfish ranks as he “helped to evacuate” the villagers. Every now and then he even worked together with another PC to take some of the monsters down. His blood sang in his veins. Finally he knew who he was!

When the 'quest' was finished his player turned a giddy Potato back towards the horseman for further instructions. “That was... amazing.” Potato panted, grinning like a madman from ear to ear.

“Glad you enjoyed it.” Now he could hear a faint smile in his goddess's voice.

“It was perfect! Us working together like that.” He beamed and gestured from himself to the sky a few times to illustrate. “I know why I'm here. Why you created me.”

“Yes.” agreed the voice.

As they rounded the vegetable cart, not a single pumpkin knocked askew by the attack, one last musing struck the freshly minted druid. “I would like to know one thing though.”

“Shoot.”

“Why Potato? Do the root vegetables hold some great significance in your culture? Are they a sign of your divinity? If I see one, should I protect it from harm? Offer it to you on a shrine? Wear it as a talisman?”

The voice snorted with laughter. “If you want to.”

“But why did-?”

“I think I was just hungry when I named you.”

“Ah.” Potato deflated. Well... not everything in this new partnership could be perfect.

“Look little dude, just be happy you didn't get named Chicken McNuggets.”

“Quite,” agreed Potato even though he wasn't certain why. His new partner steered him on to whatever fresh quest awaited him.

The End


End file.
